


I'm Under Your Skies

by dorkpatroller



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Owainigo Week, Porn, Ship Week, Some angst, The whole shabang, it's all one cohesive fic, there is only porn porn in the first prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-11-30 16:31:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11467374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dorkpatroller/pseuds/dorkpatroller
Summary: The tales of Odin Dark and Laslow of the Indigo Skies as they face the general hardships of "being married."OWAINIGO WEEK 2017





	1. I'm caught in your eyes (Flowers)

**Author's Note:**

> The artwork found in this fanfic is drawn by http://www.plakumi.tumblr.com and it's incredible. Please go to their blog and thank them for their incredible contribution. While you're there you should also look at their commission page or their patreon, where they draw AMAZING dakis. 
> 
> This fic is one cohesive fic based on the prompts for Owainigo Week 2017 :) It's written as snippets of their life. Please enjoy.

The skies truly feel like they belong to Inigo when the sun is setting and the clouds are tinted shades of pink and blue and indigo. The clouds are creamy and painted bright. It is always cast against this backdrop that Inigo’s smile shines more radiant than the sun, and the shape of his frame is outlined by the vanishing light when he moves. Some days when he dances in the light of the early sunset, Owain has been known to steal a glance as he passes by, or to hide where he can watch. This is no such occasion.

Today Inigo moves at a gentle walk. His fingers are curled into Owain’s hand, twisted up like nothing could come between them. He’s up to his knees in what feels like an endless field of wildflowers. They smell sweet on the gentle, summer breeze. The same breeze that pushes through Inigo’s hair and clothes, like he isn’t even real. He’s so stunning like this that Owain can hardly believe he’s not a dream.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Inigo says. He swings their hands between them while they walk. He’s still in the clothes he wore for the wedding. It’s nothing all that fancy. They just wore the nicest things they already owned. Inigo might look handsome in anything, Owain thinks. Inigo bends down and plucks a flower, pure and bright as the sky. He turns it in his fingers while he admires it. After that, he offers it to Owain, and he smiles that smile again.

It’s like the same, big smile he wore during the ceremony. Ceremony seems like a big word for it, really. It was only four people. The two of them, an old priest who barely seemed sturdy on his feet, and Severa as their witness. Owain is sure that Lissa and Olivia would have loved to come and see, but… well, they have their own babies now. It’s about time Owain and Inigo moved on and let them enjoy their new families.

It was small but it was magical. Their voices echoed in the chapel while they made their vows, and sunlight poured in through the stained-glass images of the gods and goddesses. They moved the rings they bought for their engagement from their right hands to their left, and their marriage was sealed with a short kiss. And then a few stray laughs and a second, longer kiss shared between them when it sank in. That was it. They did it!

Inigo tucks the flower into a shimmery-sheer sash tied around Owain’s waist. Owain looks down at it for a second, and then he’s guided by Inigo’s hand to gaze into his eyes instead. “What’s on your mind? Can’t have already found someone you like better than me.” His voice is like wine. It’s smooth and sweet but there’s a tang at the end where he’s trying to make a joke.

Owain can’t believe the thought could ever cross his mind. Joke or not, it is a matter of his new husband’s dignity. He takes up Inigo’s face in his hands and pulls him up to kiss him. Inigo has to stand on his toes, but he accommodates Owain. He smiles soft and slow against Owain’s mouth, and Owain combs his fingers through Inigo’s dark hair.

“That’s more like it,” Inigo murmurs when Owain pulls away. “Though I’d still offer a pretty penny for your thoughts.”

“None,” Owain admits. “I’m only just captivated by how lucky I am to have married the most handsome man in Ylisse.”

For a moment Inigo just stares at him. His smile falters and his cheeks get a little darker, like he’s stunned. But then he shakes his head and shakes off his embarrassment with it. “You’re quite the flatterer.” He curls his hands into the fabric of the sash, just next to that flower. “What say we make our way towards an Inn for the night, then, hm? I’d be happy to show you more of me.”

Led further into the sea of flowers by Inigo’s hand, Owain certainly hopes that’s a promise.

…

The breath leaves Owain when Inigo pushes him back into the sheets. He barely has time to push himself up and scramble to a more central position in the bed before Inigo is crawling over him. He settles down to sit on Owain’s hips, but he pushes him back so he falls into the sheets again. “Hey!” Owain barks out a laugh and Inigo snorts.

“Sorry, it was just so much fun the first time, I thought I’d do it again.”

“Yeah?” Owain reaches up and pinches lightly at Inigo’s sides. He tickles there and Inigo jolts. Not even a second later he swats at Owain’s hands. He’s met with resistance.

A lot of resistance. Owain pushes back and does his best to keep tickling, and Inigo makes a noise caught between a laugh and a whine. “Don’t make me fight you  _ Owain Dark _ ,” He warns. “I may be your dashing groom, but I won’t hesitate to hurt you.”

“Ha! Farces! Bluffs! You would do nothing to hurt me.” Owain nearly spits the words, but it’s all just play. He falls back into the bed a final time when Inigo forces his wrists back above his head. Pinned. He’s properly pinned and Owain peers up at Inigo with a mixture of a smile and uncertainty. “I’ve been wrong before.”

Inigo is lighter than Owain but he’s far from weak. He’s just as much a swordsman and a competitive sparring partner. With his weight focused on pinning Owain down, he’s got an incredible advantage over him. Owain doesn’t fight him at all. He just checks once to see that Inigo’s grip is solid, and it is. It is with the silkiest tone that Inigo says, “I’m feeling merciful, tonight, lucky for you.”

He rolls his hips against Owain’s. He’s sitting-pretty, there, thighs spread on either side of him. He’s busy holding Owain’s wrists down but he moves his hips with the graceful precision that belongs to a dancer. It has Owain raising his hips to meet him in only a handful of seconds, and tiny, breathless moans forming from his lips. Moans that are quickly silenced by Inigo, who leans down and slots their lips together.

“I’ll give you the wedding night of the century,” he promises with a wide smile on Owain’s lips, “Unless you still think me a liar?”

Of course not. Inigo is anything but a liar and his kisses and his promises sound sticky sweet. “I would trust you with my life.” He kisses Inigo’s grin until it spreads too wide and he laughs gently.

“So serious. May you never have to.”

He kisses like he can’t stand to be apart from Owain. He pulls at his clothes like parting for more than a gasp of air would be the end of the world. It’s a struggle that ends up with Owain’s arm caught in his shirt weird and with a snort of laughter while Inigo tries to navigate how in the world he tangled him up in his own shirt. Eventually, it settles on success, with Inigo dropping the last of their clothes to the floor in a pile and with Owain ghosting his fingertips over Inigo’s hips. One is scarred on one side, an injury from an axe. It’s a light scar, a clean cut, but a wound that could have taken his life if he hadn’t been lucky. Now that Grima is no longer a threat, Owain hopes he won’t ever to see Inigo get hurt that badly again. He is a hero, but only human.

Owain pushes himself off the bed with one hand so that he can lean into Inigo and kiss him. His chest, over his nipple, along his collarbone... All the places that he knows best Inigo likes to be kissed and touched, but would never say out loud. Places that give him tiny chills. Inigo, on the other hand, smoothly produces a bottle of oil from one of their bags. He shifts so he’s sitting between Owain’s legs instead of on top of them, and Owain shifts so he has more than enough room to work.

This isn’t always the way it goes, but it’s familiar and easy. Inigo strokes a hand over the length of Owain’s cock and uses the other to work him open in just the right ways to make his hips lift off the bed eagerly. In just the right way that he doesn’t have the patience to wait any longer, but Inigo likes to be a flirt and a tease and so he finds himself half moaning and half pleading. “Are you done yet?”

“Maybe.” Inigo turns his eyes to glance up at Owain and when he does he smirks. “Are you getting impatient? My, my, I thought I would have more time to enjoy my own husband on this, our one and only wedding night.”

Well, when he words it like that… “What! I have patience! Endless—oh,” Owain’s voice hitches at the end where Inigo slips his fingers out of him. He just chuckles then, playing with the oil and spreading it over himself, no doubt.

“You know I didn’t mean anything by it,” Inigo says. He pushes himself forward between Owain’s half-bent legs. He finds his lips and nips the bottom one, pulls on it with his teeth before he lets it snap back with a tiny snicker.

Owain almost thinks to laugh, too. Before he can Inigo takes hold of one of his legs, beneath his knee, and pushes it up and towards his chest. All the way, until his knee bounces off of it, and Owain yelps in shock. “W-Woah, woah!” He’s not completely convinced he bends like that. Inigo grins at him and eases up so he’s not bent quite so far.

He clicks his tongue. “We should really work on your flexibility, dear,” He says. Owain drops his head back into the pillow and laughs.

It’s a warm laugh and it shifts into a shuddery moan as Inigo pushes inside of him.  Inigo holds his breath, he doesn’t release it until he’s worked himself all the way in. He hangs his head and exhales and Owain reaches out and pulls his face forward into a surprise kiss. “I fear you’re right; my patience has been compromised,” he says into Inigo’s mouth. His breath is hot and Inigo’s tongue swipes over his lips.

Inigo grants the mostly-obvious request to move with a rock of his hips. It starts slow. The first few thrusts take them a moment to set a rhythm together. Then it becomes easy as breathing. With each hitch where Inigo draws back, there is only a fraction of a second before Owain raises his hips to meet him as he slams back in. It’s sticky-sweet like honey, the hot pleasure that glosses over Owain, but it’s articulated with ice. Jabs of shocking, precise, electric ecstasy when the head of Inigo’s cock squishes past his prostate on each inward thrust.

He could drown in the way Inigo makes him feel, but Owain thinks that would be like drowning in a sunset and in an ocean made of flowers, and even if it meant death it would be a romantic way to go. But he can’t drown, not really, not with Inigo kissing over his jaw and tugging on his cock in ways that make Owain gasp out loud and suck in more air.

Every breath is jagged and every movement is bliss. The buildup comes slow, Inigo drags it out in the best way. He swipes at the pre-come at Owain’s slit and he smears it around. He’s just playing anyway. And when they reach the point of no return, it’s a bridge they cross together. It’s  Owain’s body growing tighter and tighter until he snaps, and Inigo moaning pathetically near Owain’s ear while he comes too. Owain can barely even hear it. Everything is hazy and his heart beat is drumming in his ears and drowning out  _ everything _ .

And then, as he falls down from that high, all he can focus on is the sound of Inigo panting. He lets go of Owain’s leg and it flops down to the sheet. Owain can’t even feel it. Inigo shifts until his cock slides out. It trails a bit of come and oil behind it. Then he settles down on top of Owain’s chest.

Gently.

He settles with his arms folded under his chin and with his ankles crossed. He lays on him like he owns him, and he does. He  _ really _ does. Owain is more than a little wrapped around Inigo’s finger. He’s coiled around it. Now more than ever, in the shape of his slender wedding band.

Owain drops his arms over his head lazily, and he stares at the ceiling of the room. He can hear Inigo’s breathing start to slow down, and his eyes slide shut. Eventually it may get harder to breathe with Inigo laying on his chest, but for now, he’s comfortable. Just as he might doze off, Inigo speaks up.

“Do you think it’s possible we can be this happy forever, Owain?”

Owain can’t see why not. “Who said I’m happy? You’re smothering me,” He jokes. He kicks Inigo’s ankle with his own, gently, and shoves him even more gentle. He doesn’t actually want Inigo to move, after all. But he opens his eyes and, reluctantly, he musters the energy to prop himself on an elbow and kiss Inigo properly. Short and sweet by comparison to their earlier endeavors. “The stars will go dark before my devotion to you fades! You,  _ Inigo of the Indigo Skies _ , light up my darkness. I promise you forever and longer.”

Inigo hums thoughtfully. Eventually, he leans closer to kiss the apple of Owain’s cheek before he settles back onto his chest. “I love you, too.”


	2. Don't you know you stop the room? (Darkness)

When they came to Nohr, Inigo anticipated change, war, danger… But he never prepared himself for lonely nights. He has only been married for six months. He’s supposed to be in his ‘honeymoon phase’. He’s supposed to be kissing Owain on his cheek when he passes him in the hallways and spending his nights with their bodies twisted up together in rapture. Instead, he doesn’t even make eye contact with  _ Odin _ .

They act like they don’t know each other. They act like they’re dutiful retainers, and that’s not fair. Prince Xander is a good man at heart, but Inigo doesn’t  _ care  _ as much about him. They’ve been acquainted for only five or six weeks, and he acts as if everything Inigo does reflects directly onto him. He should be  _ grateful _ . Inigo doesn’t see  _ him _ trying to woo any women. Maybe after they reject Inigo they’ll fall into his arms?

Not that Inigo even  _ wants _ those women to fall for him. He flirts to raise their spirits and make them feel good about themselves. Something about their smiles makes Inigo's feel less forced. He's found the women of Nohr enjoy his advances about as much as the women in Ylisse. 

He wants Owain. His Owain. His  _ husband!  _ He never considered that he would have to pretend he didn’t know him. He never considered that their marriage would fall on deaf ears. Is it even legal here? They act like they don't know each other in order not to raise suspicion of their true identities. So perhaps their marriage is invalid?  _Odin Dark_ is not married. 

Inigo hates hiding his wedding ring. He wears it every day, tucked under his gloves, but no one can see it. Not even an indentation of it through the thick leather. He hates laying in his bed, in his quarters, alone. He’s doing it right now—staring at the ceiling. He hates  _ all of this _ .

Inigo sighs and turns over onto his stomach in his bed. He hugs the pillow under his chin and closes his eyes. How cruel is it that when they cannot even be together, they are only a hallway apart? During the day they see each other a few times. Any time Prince Leo talks with Prince Xander. Sometimes they see each other when they prepare meals or tea for their lieges. Sometimes they pass in the hallway and Inigo looks ahead or, occasionally, nods his head at him. They’re meant to act like they’re growing acquainted slowly.

It's wearing on Owain too. Inigo knows. Once in the late hours they happened upon each other in the undercity... and Inigo still has a bit of a bruise where Owain dropped everything he was doing to slam Inigo into a wall to kiss. It hurt, it was far from a gentle shove... but Inigo's lips still tingle when he thinks about how hard Owain kissed him. He doesn't think he's ever been kissed like that before in his life. It was desperate, parched. It was like it renewed life in them. Maybe it gave Owain the strength to carry on with this charade. 

Inigo is sick of it. Anankos asked for help saving someone or other, not for them to set aside their vows. He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to will away any tears. No need to cry, tonight. No… tonight he can take matters into his own hands.  Inigo throws back the blanket and pulls an undershirt over his head. He tugs proper trousers up over his legs and steps into a pair of shoes that he doesn’t even lace. A chill runs through him. The nights in Nohr are like ice, he swears, but he will venture in the cold, empty halls anyway.

There are guards that patrol the halls at night but Inigo thinks, if he tries, he can time it just right to slip past them. He only has to make it around one bend. Owain might kill him for this. No, that isn’t true. Severa might kill him for this. Owain will be grateful, won’t he?

Surely he misses Inigo, too.

Actually _doing_ the sneaking is scarier than he expects. For all his confidence of how he could sneak past the patrol guards, he has to duck behind a corner once to avoid being spotted. It’s with his heart racing and his hands shaking that he lays a hand on the handle to Owain's door. He’s awake. The flickering of lantern light spills under the door. Inigo doesn’t mind; that’s actually for the better. He turns the latch and sweeps himself inside, closing and locking the door behind him.

Owain looks up at him the moment he enters. He’s propped up on his bed with pillows and he’s reading over a grimoire of some sort. The lantern is burning low on his bedside table and he’s undressed for the evening.

He looks concerned. “Laslow, is something wrong?” He asks. Inigo shakes his head no. He approaches the bed slowly, on opposite side that Owain is on, and he steps out of his shoes.

“I want to be Inigo tonight,” he says quietly. He undresses to his underclothes and leaves a pile of fabric on the floor. “All that is wrong is that I haven’t shared a bed with my own husband in over a month.”

He crawls uninvited under the blankets and Owain shifts to make sure he’s plenty warm. Right away Inigo pushes his chilled legs against Owain. Owain jolts at the touch. He’s toasty and warm from being safely under the blankets. It’s soothing to Inigo. Just like this, he’s sure he’s happier than he’s been in weeks. He nestles down into the pillows and wraps the blanket up over his shoulder. “Keep reading, dear, I won’t be a bother.” It feels good to call him that. It feels good to treat him like his husband instead of a stranger. To let Owain read in bed while Inigo sleeps.

Instead, Owain marks his place in the book and sets it aside. He dims the lantern light almost until it’s extinguished. There’s a rustle of sheets while he squirms under them. Cuddled in the blankets, until he can wrap his arms oh so perfectly tight around Inigo’s waist. “How can I possibly read? You stop time with your beauty. Of all the people in this world, you distract me most of all.”

“I don’t mean to distract you.” Inigo is lying. He wouldn’t have been opposed to Owain reading, but being curled up in his arms and breathing in his scent is far more rewarding. Owain shoves on him a little bit and Inigo eventually gives in and turns over on his opposite side. That’s rewarding too. Not that he’d admit it out loud, but being the little spoon is pretty nice. Being wrapped up safe and sound, with Owain’s chest warm and strong against his back... well it makes him happy.

“If my steadfast soulmate needs a warm embrace, so be it! I will hold you until dawn.” Owain’s promise sounds tempting. Inigo sighs, contently, and he closes his eyes. They’re going to make it through this. Nohr is new and dark and scary, but Inigo isn’t afraid of the dark anymore, anyway. It always just reminds him of his doofy, perfectly-imperfect, husband. He’ll have to sneak back to his room come morning but until then Inigo intends to take Owain up on his offer. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry i'm sure some of you expected me to angst for this but i needed some god given fluff. There will be angst in a ~future prompt~ I swear.


	3. And all that I can see is you (Marriage)

Laslow is standing at a desk sorting through old paperwork. There are many. Treaties, historical documents, records, and he is searching for something specific. A specific deed to some old piece of land. Laslow isn’t sure why Xander is so interested in finding it, but they’ve been in the depths of the records portion of the library for what feels like the entire day.

 

This is boring work for Laslow. He’s not one for paperwork. He’s especially not one for paperwork today. He finds himself looking out the window again and he curses under his breath when he realizes it. He catches himself not paying attention to what he’s doing, and over and over he must revisit the same piles of papers he’s already sorted through.

 

This is getting old, and he has no one to blame but himself.

 

It’s not his fault. He glances out the window for the hundredth time. Today is just… wrong. It doesn’t feel like it should. He’s distracted by that sinking feeling in his gut.

 

“Laslow.”

 

Laslow blinks back into focus and snaps his head in the direction of Xander.  He clears his throat. “Milord,” He says softly. “Is something the matter?”

 

“Only that this is the tenth time I’ve heard you sigh. Is something on your mind?” He is a very observant man. Since he has been here, Laslow has learned as much about Prince Xander.

 

Laslow attempts to lie away the question anyway. He dips his head slightly to the side and slips on a smile. “I’m flattered for your concern, but I assure you it’s nothing.”

 

“Hm.” Xander goes back to looking at the papers I his hands. “In the five years that I have known you, Laslow, you have always requested this particular date off.”

 

There is silence while Laslow considers what Xander is saying. That he knows today is somehow important to him, that he knows he is distracted. Of course, today is important. Today is the day that he married Odin. Or, that is, the day that Inigo married Owain. They’re still the same men, this is still their anniversary. He’s startled out of that silence when Xander shuffles some old parchments and they rustle together.

 

“It must have been a coincidence, milord.” Laslow fakes a tiny laugh and a tinier smile. He’s not very invested in his façade today. He’s distracted by the empty feeling in his chest, knowing that Odin is nowhere to be seen.

 

Leo left with his retainers weeks earlier. They were meant to be back by now and worry set in long before, for everyone. There was no word, and there is no certainty if they had made it safely.

 

Laslow sighs for the eleventh time. “I have no need to take today off.” Xander makes a noise that Laslow has learned over the years means he doesn’t believe him. Laslow goes back to sifting through papers. Where was he again? What is he looking for? This is stupid.

 

Laslow could truly care less about this document. He wants to know where his husband is at. He wants to know if his husband is _alive_. He wants to share their anniversary. In all the years that they have worked so hard to hide their marriage, never once did they miss this. They always spent this day together. They made up excuses for why they needed a day off and requested it well in advance, and then they slipped out of Windmire to just be happy and free.

 

The sky is growing darker as evening sets in. Xander clears his throat. Laslow glances in his direction. “I received word this morning that my brother and his retainers were arriving in Windmire. They arrived this afternoon to report back to Father.”

 

Laslow would like to pretend he isn’t interested but he _can’t._ He drops the stack of papers he’s holding, and he scrambles to catch them and pick them back up. “Oh! Haha, forgive me,” Laslow says while he tries to hide how wide his smile has grown. He should play it cool. He’s failed already. “That’s wonderful news. Thank goodness for their safe return.”

 

Xander sighs and looks back at the papers he’s sorting. He doesn’t miss a whole heartbeat, and he doesn’t even look up at Laslow. “That being the case, Leo has given his retainers the rest of the evening off to rest up and relax. You may have the evening off, as well, should you want to spend the rest of the day with your husband.”

 

What?

 

Heat crawls up from the depths of hell and settles on Laslow’s face. A dark red blush that spreads over his neck and chest and the tips of his ears. He’s praying that Xander does not turn to look at him, and he coughs into his hand. “Erm… D-Did you just say ‘husband’?”

 

Xander spares only a curious glance at Laslow. “It’s your anniversary. Is it not?” Laslow sputters. How could he know? How could anyone know? He can’t even get out his words but Xander chuckles and sets aside the stack of papers he’s working on to take the papers out of Laslow’s hands. “You are very good at keeping your secrets, Laslow, but you do little to hide this one. Odin wears his ring in plain sight. In Nohr, it is traditional to wear one’s wedding band on the right, on the third finger. That Odin wears his on the left, on his second finger, made it very inconspicuous. I only made the connection when I saw that you wear yours on your third finger and that the rings match.”

 

“H-How observant of you, milord,” Laslow says with a shaky voice. He pulls his hands closer to his chest and through the fabric of his gloves he pinches at his own ring. “I,” He tries to argue at first. Maybe he should suggest they’re not married? But it seems pointless. There’s no doubt Leo knows as well. He just hopes the whole castle doesn’t. How embarrassing for them to keep a secret everyone knows! “I should go visit him after his long travels…”

He barely waits for Xander to wave him off before he exits the library. He’s never walked this fast before but he’s not quite running. How embarrassing! Even so, he can hardly focus on the embarrassment when he knows that Odin is home. He’s back in Nohr and presumably safe and sound, and that’s all that matters.

 

He stops in front of Odin’s door and lets himself in. He’s never really bothered to knock. This is his husband. He can’t imagine he’s doing anything in there that Laslow shouldn’t see. And yet when he enters the room, he finds it to be empty.

 

Xander just said that they had been given the day off. Where could Odin possibly be? Laslow sighs. It doesn’t matter. He’ll wait for him. He sits down on the side of the bed and takes off his gloves. When he does he catches a glimpse of his ring and brings it to his face to better inspect it.

 

It isn’t anything spectacular. It’s champagne gold, thin and simple, with minimal designs in the metal. It does match Odin’s. How Xander possibly made the connection is incredible. When did Laslow even have his gloves off in front of Xander for long enough for him to notice? For that matter…

 

The door opens. Laslow turns his eyes up to look at Odin as he enters. He catches a moment of surprise on Odin’s features, and then a moment later he catches his warm, sunshine smile. Laslow stands up and smiles too. He looks Odin over. He’s all in one piece, nothing missing. His right arm is wrapped up in bandages from his shoulder to his forearm… but they’re clean, white bandages. Laslow’s smile only falters for a moment. He glances at Odin’s eyes and then back down to the bandages. He’s asking what happened. Odin knows he is, but he doesn’t answer.

 

Odin’s priorities lie elsewhere. He closes the door and crosses the room to meet Laslow quickly. In a matter of seconds, Laslow’s concern is replaced with a bubbly laugh. Odin hugs him so tight he thinks he may bruise, but it’s been so long since he’s seen Odin that it’s more than appropriate. “I missed you,” he admits.

 

His arm is no longer a concern. If Odin can hug him this tightly he must not be _so_ injured. Odin pecks Laslow’s lips in a tiny kiss. “I missed you too.” He says afterward. Is that it?

 

The Odin Dark Laslow knows wouldn’t stand for such a little kiss. A grand gesture would do much better. Laslow pulls on Odin’s face with his hands until their lips smash together in an almost too rough kiss. Their teeth smack even, but it’s salvaged by Laslow’s determination and Odin’s enthusiasm. “You almost missed our anniversary, dear,” Laslow mumbles. He mumbles in a bitter, but playful, tone and he doesn’t pull away at all because he wants to resume kissing him.

 

His plan is ruined when Odin smiles too wide and shakes his head. “I would never!”

 

A ruined kiss, but Laslow doesn’t mind. He trails his fingers over the bandages. “Is your ‘sword arm’ okay?”

 

A demonstration is necessary, apparently. Odin bends down and picks Laslow up under his knees. In a moment of shock, Laslow yelps. Only briefly. A moment later his legs are wrapped around Odin’s hips and his arms can drape over his shoulders easily. “Nothing more than a burn. No match for the might of Odin Dark!”

 

Laslow sighs and plays with the ends of the hair at the back of Odin’s neck. “Mhmm. You be careful on these missions. War is upon us, and without a handsome hero like me out there to protect you… well, I do tend to worry over you while you’re away.”

 

They kiss. Once and then again. Tiny kisses punctuated with the quietest of “I love you’s.” Odin holds Laslow in his arms and he certainly acts like it doesn’t bother him at all. Laslow thinks he could fall asleep like this, being swayed back and forth. He drops his forehead down to rest on Odin’s.

 

…And then Odin ruins it by throwing him, with no warning at all, onto the bed. Laslow shouts for the second time. Someone is going to hear. Whose rooms border Odin’s? He forgets sometimes. Laslow hits the bed and he’s so shocked he literally bounces and lays in place.

 

Odin crawls over him and Laslow only barely has pushed himself up into a sitting position. He holds Odin’s face with his hand, a gentle touch articulated by the coolness of his ring, and he sighs away his shock when Odin kisses him so gently. That is until Odin reaches out and pulls Laslow’s other arm out from under him. He falls back on the bed a second time. He falls out of that kiss and instead twists his face up in annoyance. “Hey!”

 

“Apologies,” Odin lies, “It was just _so fun_ the first time. I thought I should do it again.”

 

Laslow can’t help it. He laughs. Odin would turn his words against him years later, and Laslow hadn’t even seen it coming. He laughs himself breathless until Odin finally cracks a grin too. “What’s so funny?”

 

Laslow wipes a stray tear from his eye and tries not to giggle when he says “Ah, nothing. You are just an unpredictable fiend, Odin Dark.”

 

“Preposterous,” Odin argues. “No doubt you can easily predict what I’m going to do next.” Odin kisses Laslow back into the sheets, hard and hot and breathless. Laslow closes his eyes and thinks about how genuinely happy he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prepare urselves tomorrow the fluff train ends and we stop in angst town.


	4. I'm standing where the lightning strikes (Blood)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm a day behind i suck holy crap rip me will i ever be on time for ship weeks

The Faceless aren’t like the Risen. The Risen were monsters created by a great evil. They were a plague that humanity couldn’t stop. The Faceless are precise. They’re created with a purpose. They aren’t half as terrifying as the monsters who create them.

 

Fighting on behalf of Nohr, Odin doesn’t have to fight them so often. Norhian mages are to blame for their existence, after all. Fighting on behalf of Corrin, however, Odin finds that now and then he is faced with them more than he would like.

 

They tower taller than any man. Chains are broken at their wrists where they’ve broken from restraints. They won’t hesitate to kill their own creators. They kill without regard to what side of the war someone fights on. They kill without reason. They are called Faceless, but they are truly also Heartless.

 

Odin and Laslow became separated from the rest of their party through a stroke of bad luck. Leo, Niles, Elise, and Peri are across a long, suspension bridge facing an onslaught of their own. Odin knows it’s his fault. He found himself stumbling at the idea of crossing that bridge, and…well, Laslow stayed back to encourage him. And save him.

 

Odin’s hesitation is why, ultimately, they’re where they are now. A faceless flung a chain at Odin like a whip and Laslow stepped in effortlessly. He took the blow and it ripped into his skin with the jagged links. Laslow cut it down, but only a few moments after he does he drops to his knees.

 

Odin can hardly breathe. “Laslow?” He asks, and without thinking, he picks him up. Laslow screams. It breaks Odin’s heart. There’s no doubt that chain broke a rib. Perhaps more damage than that, even. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, and he runs into the cover of the trees.

 

The stomping of monsters is all around them, but Odin doesn’t know what else to do but try to hide. He works to lay Laslow against a tree, and he crouches over him to better look at the wound. He’s stunned. That chain cut through the fabric of his gambeson, cut through his skin. The laceration is deep and bleeding a startling amount… and Odin can only imagine that if it had struck him instead it may have cut right through him. Laslow certainly saved his life.

 

“Odin,” Laslow begins. His voice is strained. He sounds watery, like he might even cry. Odin is already working to get a vial of vulnerary from Laslow’s pouch. It won’t be enough to fix _this_ , but it’s a good start. Their only start. He hesitates when Laslow lays his hand on Odin’s arm. “You’re alright?”

 

Odin laughs, but it comes with tears stinging the corners of his eyes. “Of course I am,” He says. He pours the medicine over Laslow’s side. He hisses. It must sting. Odin doesn’t care. He presses his hand over the wound a moment later and Laslow hisses louder.

 

“S-Shit, Odin,” Laslow bites his lip and exhales a ragged breath. Odin shakes his head.

 

“My hero,” Odin says softly. “You’re going to be just fine, as soon as we get you to Elise.” His palm is already slick and warm with Laslow’s blood.

 

Laslow laugh’s pathetically and drops his head back against the tree. “Oh? And just how do you suppose we get to them when the bridge is swarmed with monsters and—!” His voice drops to nothing. The stomping of the monsters sounds closer. Odin leans over Laslow. Maybe like he can protect him, silence them both merely by being closer. The stomping trails away and Laslow breathes out a relieved sigh. “Leave me here.”

 

“Yeah, we can… wh—what?” Odin is about to come up with a plan but Laslow’s slaps him in the face like a brick. “No!” He’s shaking but he keeps that pressure on Laslow’s wound and he keeps a steady gaze on him. He’s pale and looks weaker by the second.

 

“Odin,” Laslow whines, “Listen to reason. Completing our mission is so much bigger than we ever thought. Finishing this mission means saving the—ah—the world. I’m only just one man. Leave me here, regroup with the others. If you can come back for me, I’ll be here.”

 

He’d be dead. Odin is certain of that. Even if he didn’t bleed out, a Faceless would find him. “We can save the world together,” Odin hisses. “Don’t you want to be there to see it?” Laslow chews his lip. Odin shakes his head. “I’m not giving up on this mission _or_ you, Laslow.”

 

“But,” Laslow begins. One look at Odin’s glare and he closes his mouth right away.

 

“You can’t fight? Fine. I’ll fight. For _both_ of us. Just stay here, and stay quiet.” Odin picks up Laslow’s hand and guides it to lay over his own wound, and he helps him push against it for pressure. It’s helping a little, he hopes, to slow it down. “Hold your hand here.”

 

Laslow looks down at his wound and then he looks back up at Odin. When he does, Odin leans in and presses a slow, firm kiss against his forehead. “I won’t be taking no for an answer,” Odin says.

 

Laslow lets out a pathetic chuckle. “Alright. I suppose I was too charming to die, anyway.” He means to be cheerful. He means to smile for Odin big and bright, but the idea that this may be the last time he ever smiles at him makes him choke on a sob. Odin starts to move away and Laslow reaches out his other hand. “Wait, wait,” he pleads.

 

Odin waits. Laslow doesn’t know what to say. He stares at Odin a second longer before he shakes his head. Odin stands and runs off. Belatedly, Laslow whispers to him to be careful. He runs far, runs where he can try and distract the faceless no doubt. Dry lightning crashes to the ground around Odin while he fights. Far away from the fight is their party, working hard to get back to them now that Odin has created something of a signal flare. Not far away at all Laslow slumps down a bit further against the trunk of that tree, and his world goes black.

 

…

 

“He’s awake!”

 

Odin’s eyes are bleary and his head hurts. He focuses on Elise first, but she leans away and Leo and Niles are leaned over him instead. “Hey lover boy,” Niles hums. Odin closes his eyes again and groans.

 

Likewise, Leo groans. “Niles, help me get him on his feet.” Odin hardly realizes they’re talking about _him_ until they’ve each got an arm under his and he’s on his feet. He blinks away stars in his eyes. Leo lets go of him cautiously. Niles keeps an arm around his shoulder just in case. “Odin you’re fine. You overspent on magic. You’ve got to wake up and get on Elise’s horse with Laslow.”

 

Ah, Laslow. Odin’s eyes snap open wider and he sobers up. “Laslow—he—He’s hurt, he,”

 

He’s right there. Now that he’s on his feet, now that he’s looking, Laslow is leaning heavily on a tree but he’s no longer bleeding and he’s standing. He smiles. It looks more like a wince. “I’m fine, dear,” He says in a soft voice. Odin rips himself from Niles’s grip. He throws his arms around Laslow. Laslow, in turn, gasps. “Oh— _Odin_ —that hurts a little,” But then he sighs and drops his head on his shoulder. “You did it.”

 

You did it. Odin closes his eyes. They’re both alive. He tilt’s Laslow’s chin up and kisses him twice. Once he misses, catches the corner of his mouth. The second time he doesn’t. Laslow squawks out protest. Probably because they’re still supposedly pretending they’re not married, and here he is kissing him in front of Leo and Niles and _Elise_.

 

Oh well. “I love you,” Odin mutters.

 

Laslow sighs. He lays his head on his shoulder. “I love you too.”


	5. I know this doesn't happen twice (Summer)

“I’m dying,” Laslow pants. He pushes his way into Odin’s room and he shuts and locks the door behind him. Odin's room has a window, that is. Laslow’s room does not. The window is already open, with a gentle breeze pushing through it. Odin is laying on his bed, on his back, and he’s just staring at the ceiling. Laslow whines. “Help me!”

 

Odin seems reluctant to get to his feet. When he does he makes a face. His forehead has a sheen over it of sweat. He sucks in a breath. Laslow is already peeling the leather gloves from his skin, and by the time Odin gets to him he’s pulled the boots off of himself too.

 

He looks at Odin desperately. “Please?” He almost whimpers. Odin laughs entirely too weakly. Laslow’s belt falls to the floor and Odin peels the gambeson and shirts off of him all at once. It’s damp under Odin’s fingers and a struggle to get off but when it’s gone Odin drops it to the floor and Laslow slumps against the door in relief. “Oh, gods,” he whines. “Why did you get the better room?”

 

Odin is literally stripped to his smallclothes. Laslow is almost there, he’s already squirming his way out of his pants. The heat in Nohr is nothing like this. This Astral Plane is more like Hoshido, they say. Once upon a time heat like this never bothered Laslow. When he was eighteen years old, when he went by Inigo, this kind of heat would feel wonderful on his back. Years later he’s far too acclimated to Nohr. The Nohrian summers are like a spring in Ylisse at best. The sun doesn’t shine there nearly enough to get _hot_.

 

The Astral Plane has saved their lives a hundred times, but today Laslow thinks it may be out to kill them. He hasn’t faced heat like this in far too long. He kicks his trousers off his ankle and he just stands there, in the breeze the window creates, for a moment.

 

“Odin, I want you to kill me.” Laslow has decided. This heat is unbearable. He pushes his hand through his bangs and they’re damp, and no doubt messy. Odin laughs again. This time he has some energy behind it. He leans down and presses the tiniest kiss against Laslow’s ear. It’s not horrible. It sends a chill through Laslow that’s almost pleasant, if not somewhat nauseating.

 

Why is it _humid_? It feels twice as hot as it really is. Odin leans down to kiss Laslow again. Their lips meet and it’s sticky and sweaty. Laslow pushes Odin back by his chest and shakes his head. “I love you more than anything, you know that, dear,” He begins. He wipes his mouth. Is that his lip sweat or his husband’s? He can’t even tell. “Don’t touch me. It’s too hot.”

 

Odin snorts out a laugh. This one is real. A bark of laughter that starts in his belly. Laslow can hardly stand to watch. It looks exhausting. Odin steps away from him and when he comes back he passes him a glass of water. Even the _glass_ is sweating. It’s cold on his tongue, however. It’s refreshing. He notices that Odin has an entire pitcher of water, with a giant chunk of ice perpetually melting within it.

 

Bless Felicia and her contributions to the army in this trying time.

 

He passes the glass back to Odin. “That’s good,” He admits. Odin takes a sip too, but holds the glass to his mouth longer than Laslow expects. Not that he cares if Odin drinks it all—there’s a whole pitcher, he just saw it. When Odin sets it aside, however…

 

Laslow gasps when Odin’s tongue laves over where his neck meets his shoulder. It’s _ice_. He’s caught a bit of ice in his mouth and it’s terribly cold. A bit of water dribbles past Laslow’s collar bone and chest and Odin kisses down his shoulder. The chills come back fierce, and Laslow leans into Odin. Heat comes off of his husband in waves, but his lips are chilled and so, so nice. “Oh,” He whispers. His eyes droop. “That’s much better…”

 

Odin kisses Laslow’s mouth slower, this time. It’s still sweaty and it’s still gross, but it’s chilly and sort of sweet that he’s still trying. A second later they part, and he can hear the crunch of Odin chewing that bit of remaining ice.

 

“It’s far too hot to ravish you properly,” Odin complains. Laslow chuckles low in his throat. That’s true. It’s unjustly hot. He doesn’t think he could bring himself to do anything that required that much exertion. “Perhaps it’s an evening better leant to reading.”

 

Odin loves to read. He’s always been interested in history and the history of Nohr is new and fresh to him. Laslow nods his head. He’s not as interested in history but… “I think I’ve got some catching up to do with your diary.”

 

Odin snorts. Laslow shoves him. “Ah, your breath is hot again. Get off.”

 

“I see how easily I’m cast aside.” Odin jokes. He pulls Laslow by his hand back to the bed. The window, thankfully, is high on the wall. No one is likely to peek in it and if they do… well, Laslow thinks they certainly get what they deserve, to see two sweaty men in their underwear. The breeze is hardly enough to soothe them. Laslow would rather dump the water on his head. It would be a waste, though.

 

Odin reaches out after a few moments of the two of them laying on the bed in silence. He links their pinky fingers together but doesn’t look up from his book.

 

Laslow looks down at their hands. Odin’s ring is a little battered by now, and he still wears it on his center finger, but Laslow loves that he never takes it off. He hums and drops his head down onto Odin’s shoulder. Odin smirks… but still says nothing.

 

“I thought it was too hot to even look at me?” Odin jokes, eventually. Laslow nods his head and closes his eyes.

 

“I suppose the almighty strength of our bond overpowers even the forces of nature,” Laslow says it easily. Being married to Odin this long makes coming up with things like that second nature. Odin grins, Laslow can practically hear it. “Read to me.”

 

Odin clears his throat and begins reading, and Laslow drifts off in a hazy summer nap to the sound of Odin’s voice and a tale of the heroes who came together to forge the beginnings of Nohr.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did someone order domestic fluff


	6. You must be my once in a lifetime. (Home)

Odin finds Laslow seated near a small pond. It’s nearly lit up by stars and fireflies. Crickets are chirping and the night is dark… but the light pouring out of the small cottage just across the way is enough to see by.

 

He’s settled in the grass and a gentle breeze pushes through his hair. Odin takes a seat beside him. Laslow’s clothes are very casual. They remind Odin, to some degree, of the way he dressed back in Ylisse. His eyes are out over the pond. Laslow’s feet are tucked under himself, but bare. He probably had his toes dipped in the water earlier. Odin slips down onto the grass beside him.

 

“Hiding?” Odin asks. “Unlike you. I know Laslow of the Azure Skies to face his problems with determination and head on.”

 

“I’m not hiding,” Laslow mutters. He shifts just a little in the grass while he speaks. He turns to look at Odin and his eyes seem sad, momentarily. “I just… Well, I’ve been thinking a lot lately. Do you think they even remember us?”

 

Odin’s lips press into a line. He tries to get a good read on Laslow. What he’s feeling, what he’s thinking… The crickets get louder. Odin shakes his head. “You’ll drown yourself if you keep swimming in thoughts like that.”

 

“I know, I know,” Laslow huffs. “But I find it hard to move on so easily. I think about Olivia every day. She wasn’t—well she wasn’t _my_ mother, but she was still the same woman.” He shakes his head. “I think about my father. Do you think they think we just ran away? Do you think they even know we left that world at all?”

 

“I like to think they’ve made peace with our absence. Maybe they think that we found our own happiness together. They won’t be wrong.” Odin watches Laslow’s eyes tilt. His lashes frame his eyes while he looks anywhere but at his husband.

 

“I miss them.” He says it with hesitance. Odin nods his head. He misses them too… but it’s not their place to go back. Those aren't their real families. As happy as he is that they saved that world, _their world_ was lost. Their parents will never come back.

 

“They would be happy for us,” Odin says. He catches the first hints of a smile spreading over Laslow’s face. “Don’t you think?”

 

Laslow looks down at his lap. She’s sleeping, there. Odin follows his glance and he smiles, too. She’s only eight months old, but she’s big and strong and already trying to explore the whole world. Her hair is brown. Like Odin’s. Like Odin’s was before Anankos ever put a spell on them to disguise their appearances. With his death, most of his magic faded. Odin’s hair returned to its natural color. His brand resurfaced on his arm. Laslow’s hair is dark too, it blends into the starry night.

 

Her hair is soft and getting long. It’s always thick and hard to tame. When she’s asleep she’s a little angel. Laid up against Inigo and sleeping away the evening, she’s perfectly calm. When she’s awake she’s wild. She’s exploring, she’s crawling faster than they can blink, she’s trying to learn everything. She can take her diaper off, even. She’s chaos, but she’s their chaos. She’s the light in Laslow’s smile. She’s the sunshine that breaks through even the darkest parts of Nohr.

 

“They would love her,” Laslow says. He waves a firefly away from her, from Soleil, and he closes his eyes. He drops his head onto Odin’s shoulder. “But we were right to stay.”

 

Odin lays his head on top of Laslow’s. He agrees. Nohr is home. Their lives are here. Their friends are here. Their jobs are here… and their daughter is here. There’s silence. The crickets calm down. Laslow’s breathing gets a touch slower. Odin could almost sleep here… but Laslow shifts away from him. He stands up and he picks up Soleil with him.

 

She squawks a tiny, baby protest when she’s jostled… but settles into Laslow’s chest. “Coming?” Laslow asks. Odin nods his head and joins him. He makes grabby hands until Laslow sighs and they jostle Soleil all over again so that Odin can hold her instead. With his arms empty, Laslow can wrap one around Odin’s waist while they walk back towards their home. “Do you think your father would call her a she-devil?” Laslow jokes. Odin chuckles.

 

“Maybe if she spat up on him.” He answers. It’s okay to miss them. Laslow pulls open the door and Odin glances back at the stars and the fireflies. The skies are full of heroes that came before them. Their parents are gone, but their memories live on. Ylisse is part of them, but Nohr is home. Laslow is Laslow. He’s the first retainer to King Xander of Nohr. Odin is Odin. He’s employed under Prince Leo… But deep down inside a part of him is still Owain. A part of Laslow is still Inigo. They never changed. They only grew, with time.

 

Odin steps inside and Laslow closes the door behind him. Their house smells like Laslow’s favorite tea and like book parchments. A little bit like the big furry dog in the corner of the room, sleeping. He perks an ear up when they walk in. Soleil whimpers when the light starts to bother her. Laslow coos at her and hums one of Olivia’s lullabies. This is the home and the life they dreamed of when they said their vows those years before. Who would have thought it would lead them here?

 

“Odin?” Laslow asks. He’s standing close. He was fussing over Soleil. Instead, now he tilts his eyes up to Odin’s. “Is something wrong?”

 

Just like that Odin swoops down and kisses him. It startles Laslow enough that he almost forgets to kiss him back, but he catches on and then smiles wide against his mouth. It’s Odin’s favorite sort of smile.

 

“I’m only just captivated by how lucky I am,” Odin muses, “…to have married the most handsome man in all of Nohr.”

 

Laslow’s smile is, after all, still as radiant as their wedding day, in the sunset. Laslow, Odin knows, is home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cries i'm caught up finally. Also there will be a final chapter for the bonus day in august :)
> 
> ambiguous babies who come from seemingly nowhere~ However you think they obtained that child is probably true.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to check my blog out at http://www.dorkpatroller.tumblr.com where you can hit me up for commissions, find my patreon, or just to chat about headcanons and stuff!
> 
> PS you're all fucking welcome for Inigo finally having his chance to top in a fanfic.


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